Enchanted Love
by Violet Princess
Summary: As Ginny finds a side of Draco she's never seen, her obsession with Harry is replaced. Do these new feelings stand a chance amidst a generation-old feud?
1. Tangled Emotions

Enchanted Love  
  
  
  
Disclaimer/Author's Note: I stake no claim to the characters, objects, events, and ideas as published by the brilliant J. K. Rowling in her Harry Potter novels or shown in the recent Warner Brothers dramatizations of the first two installments. Any interpretation of characters and events is strictly that. The setting of this fan fiction is winter of Harry's third year at Hogwarts (chronicled in the volume Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), but is in no way actually connected to the events of that book. If I may be brazen, I would like to dedicate this piece of writing to my late grandmother who passed away in September 2000. Though christened Mary Virginia, those fortunate enough to know her did so by the name Gini. Nana, you were ever in my thoughts as I wrote this, intertwined in the plot and in myself.  
  
  
  
Chapter One: Tangled Emotions  
  
  
  
Ginny Weasley sat in the library, carefully dipping her ragged quill in the inkwell. Her composition was due tomorrow, and Professor Snape didn't like inkblots. Especially from a Gryffindor. The scroll kept rolling back upon itself, and she frantically held it back from smearing the wet ink. She cramped her handwriting, trying to use as little room as possible on the expensive parchment.  
  
She glanced towards her brothers, who, in heightened tones, eagerly discussed with Harry Potter the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. They were framed by the falling snow in the picture window behind; she reflected on the possibility of having a white Christmas. The librarian hissed a "Shh!" in their general direction, spitting accidentally on the open book in front of her, and the noise dropped down to a loud whisper. Ginny stared wistfully at them.  
  
She was in that position when she heard heavy breathing over her shoulder and looked up into the twisted face of Draco Malfoy. "Another redhead Weasel drooling over Potter," he sneered. "How romantic."  
  
Ginny colored to match the auburn hue of her hair. "Go away; you're drooling on my robe," she muttered, sinking down into her seat behind the scroll. He grinned at her discomfort and continued the teasing.  
  
I'll stay right here," he replied. "You're lucky; rags like those aren't normally worth my drool-but wait, that's all Daddy Dearest can afford for you." Ginny kept writing, occasionally sneaking glances at Harry but ignoring Draco, so he tried a different tactic.  
  
"Too bad for the little weasel," he taunted. "What's she to do to win affection? Potter plays off all the girls, just to please them, but he's only got eyes for Granger. He's-"  
  
Ginny hesitantly raised a shaking hand, then slapped him with all the strength that she could muster. He spluttered spitefully and glared at her with murderous malice. "Why you little brat! I'll-"  
  
"Any problem here?" Harry was suddenly behind Ginny, and Draco straightened up sullenly. "It seems, Malfoy, that your insults have a habit of not finishing themselves. And if you, also, do not wish to be finished, I suggest that you leave her alone."  
  
His guarded words and tone seemed to have an effect on Draco. "We'll finish this later, Potter," he muttered, and stalked off.  
  
Ginny looked up adoringly into the face of her lightening-ed white knight. "Thank you," she whispered, in what she hoped was a somewhat flirty voice.  
  
"No problem, kiddo." He ruffled the wisps of her red mark of shame. "Anything for a friend."  
  
  
  
(((((((  
  
  
  
The Gryffindor commons room was a notorious magnet for sound. Quizzings for a potions test were yelled back and forth across the rooms. Cracked jokes either sent listeners into uproarious laughter, or fell flat as platitudes. Excited voices discussed plans for the Christmas vacation starting the next day.  
  
But there was a lull as Ginny entered. Then silence gave way to thunderous applause and war whoops, the latter courtesy of a group rallied by Fred and George. "We spilled about your victory over the pond scum," They informed her, stating the obvious. "Man, did we teach you well!"  
  
Percy strode up to join them, brushing a piece of lint off his 'Head Boy' badge. He grinned at his sister. "I never knew you had such feistiness in you; must be the red hair," he commented, tugging a few strands. She wished everyone would just leave her and her hair alone. ""We might lose a few points over the incident," he continued, "but I'm very proud-you sure picked the right way to lose them!"  
  
He moved on as Ginny stared after him, flabbergasted. Perfect, Prefect, Head Boy Percy was congratulating her on losing points? Of, course, she thought, the feud. It had been Weasley versus Malfoy for as long as she could remember, and one of the few things that Percy was passionate about. She shrugged and began to weave her way through the throngs.  
  
Amidst the excitement and confusion, she met Harry in the crowd. He pulled her over to a corner, and her heart pounded wildly as he touched her sleeve. "Ron told me what the teasing was about," he began. "I want to thank you for standing up for me. That took a lot of courage, and."  
  
"And.?" she supplied, her lips hinting at a smile, and perhaps a subtle something else.  
  
"I, ah." Harry rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, fingers pausing unconsciously on the scar. "Please don't tell Hermione!" he blurted anxiously, his face appearing as if she were looking through raspberry tinted glass.  
  
"Sure thing," she smiled weakly. "Just returning a favor." So Draco had been right in yet another aspect of his caustic taunts.  
  
"Thanks," he grinned, relieved. "I knew I could count on you. You Weasleys are like family to me." Ginny stared after his retreating figure, and then hurried to her room.  
  
  
  
(((((((  
  
  
  
Ginny sighed as she lay on the twin bed, rolling over onto her stomach. She fingered the thick fringe on the blue woven bedspread, inveterately braiding the tangled strands as she strove to sort out her tangled emotions.  
  
An errant fly erratically flew around the room in a frantic frostbitten frenzy. Ginny winced at its buzzing as it counted down hours to the fatal fate of a wintry death. She swung her arm towards it, hoping to end its misery, to crush it like her dreams had been crushed.  
  
After three circuits around the room she flopped back on the bed, feeling utterly unsuccessful and useless. She reached for the Muggle-made diary her father had bought for her after the near-death episode last year with Tom Riddle. It was gently used but the Muggle child's pages had been ripped out. She glanced at the giggling cherub baby on the cover, never failing to be amazed at the fact that it didn't move, and opened to a fresh page, proceeding to pour out all the secrets of her tortured heart.  
  
Ginny remembered the first time she had met Harry, when her mother had helped him board the Hogwarts Express. She had gaped at him in amazed awe, instantly setting her standards high. By the time he visited their humble abode the following summer, Ginny had convinced herself that Harry was the only one for her. The pages of that cursed journal had been filled with ramblings of adoration; the feelings had strengthened when he had saved her life.  
  
And all that emotion for nothing. Wasted, like she would waste away without her idyllic idolatrous hopes. She could feel herself growing weaker, weaker.if she died from a broken heart, then Harry would be sorry. With an exaggerated sigh that more resembled the cough of an exhaust pipe, Ginny fell backwards, feigning rigor mortis. Ridiculous. She sat up again quickly and nearly choked on the giggle she was hard pressed to suppress.  
  
But still.as she crawled beneath the bedspread, done with her acting antics, a sob escaped its imprisonment from her throat and her soul. She relived the pain of the repertoire of names that signified nothing more than camaraderie.kiddo, friend, family.weasel? Draco had called her that, not Harry; yet why did it bother her so much? Her mind mulled over the revelation as she gave way to slumber. 


	2. A Curious Revelation

Chapter Two: A Curious Revelation  
  
One week later.  
  
  
  
It had been a white Christmas, and the snow was still falling as the students boarded the Hogwarts Express. They were eager to see their friends and exclaim over long-coveted gifts; few, save for Hermione, actually looked forward to a grueling second term. One must, however, take the bad with the good.  
  
Ginny shared a seat with only her valise and shabby woolen coat that had seen six other Weasleys before bestowment upon herself. The other Gryffindors were scattered around the crowded train car, but she wasn't interested in conversation. A week of delightful distraction had eased her heart and erased Harry from her thoughts, but the prospect seeing him again sent pangs of pain shooting through her being. The most agonizing aspect of the whole affair, however, was that he was always completely oblivious to her anguish, caught up in stealing secret glances at Hermione.  
  
She sighed, trying hard to concentrate on something else, anything else. Squeals and peals of laughter from the front of the coach indicated that Fred and George had let out the secret: one of their heavy trunks held nothing but icy snow that had been magicked into staying cold. Ginny recalled their struggle to layer on all the clothing that instead should have been packed in the bearer of secrets, and smiled in spite of herself. Their mother seemed to have overlooked the temporary obesity, crediting it to the way the twins had put away the Christmas pudding.  
  
She also remembered what else had happened at the family holiday supper. Percy, when giving the Hogwarts happenings, had proudly concluded with, "and Ginny slapped Malfoy's son when he started teasing her." Ginny, ducking under the linen tablecloth in embarrassment, noted that yet another brother was growing up--referring to the elder enemy by the last name and byword curse. Her father had then bragged to all his friends and office mates at the Ministry of Magic.  
  
To put it mildly, Ginny felt that her family was just overreacting because of the feud. True, the Malfoys were infamous for their supposedly previous activity with the Dark Arts and You-Know-Who, but it was when matters became personal that danger occurred, like the journal incidence. Ginny shuddered; her near-death experience still reoccurred in frequent nightmares.  
  
Oh, well. Ginny silently added herself to the count of those looking forward to classes, tests, and broomstickloads of homework. Studying would relieve her mind of all these troublesome issues.  
  
  
  
(((((((  
  
  
  
Ginny once more looked dubiously at her new roster for the second semester. Just when walking between classes had turned into rote routine, everything was switched around. She silently cursed her having to stay behind after Charms because her wand was defective; she had missed seeing where the other second-year Gryffindors had gone. Where was Room 973 anyway- heck, where was a map with "You are here" in bold? One could never be positive with classroom locations; the numbers were not chronological and the staircases were constantly shifting.  
  
She stared at the roster once again, and started walking, almost hoping that a secret voice would whisper directions. She was trying so hard to believe it that she almost jumped out of her scuffed loafers when a voice did speak.  
  
"Watch where you're going, Weasel," scowled Draco, inches ahead in her path.  
  
Ginny returned the grimace measure for measure. "Watch yourself." Then she caught sight of his face. The whole left side was bruised and swollen, and large welts trickled down like paths of dried blood. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Did I do that?" By instinct, her brow creased in concern.  
  
"Of course not; that slap couldn't kill a fly." He paused, picking up a new train of thought. "I guess you did, inadvertently. This is what my father did when he found out about what had happened."  
  
Ginny gaped incredulously. "You told him about it?"  
  
"Of course not," Draco repeated. Your father did.  
  
The gape became a gasp. "I'm.I'm sorry," she murmured. Her lower lip trembled, and a tiny tear ran down her cheek, mirroring one of his wounds. Once again her hand touched his face, but gently. Her tiny appendage didn't cover half of the disfigured lump.  
  
He let it linger for a moment, then turned away. "Shouldn't you be in class?"  
  
Ginny smiled ruefully. "I should, but Room 973 has not yet chosen to reveal its location to me."  
  
Her reply brought a slight grin to his lips, and for once it wasn't evil. "Down the hall, second staircase on the left, third door on the right.you can't miss it."  
  
"Thanks.bye." She headed in the direction he had indicated, her ears nearly missing the faint "Bye, Weasel!"  
  
  
  
(((((((  
  
  
  
Ginny barely missed being tardy for Transfigurations, but her mind never made it to class. Professor McGonagall called on her once, and she provided the correct answer, but it was only a mechanical response. Her thoughts were on a different change that was taking place somewhere else-and the cause would not be found in her textbook.  
  
What was going on with Draco? When she had seen him in the hall, his tortured face had welled tears and aroused pity for him that she had not known that she possessed. Why should she care about a foe?  
  
But he had seemed so bearable today, almost nice. Draco Malfoy had smiled at her without malice, and actually helped her find her class. She shook her head in amazement. Maybe the boy did have a heart after all.suddenly, she found herself wishing that he did.  
  
  
  
(((((((  
  
  
  
She made her way back to the commons room after classes to do her homework, but still Draco remained in her thoughts. Ginny finally realized what was bothering her-guilt. It was her fault that he was hurt. She knew what she had to do: write him a full apology. She took out a fresh scroll of parchment and began to write in flowing script, letting it remain un- cramped for once.  
  
Other Gryffindors chatted and moved about her, but Ginny remained aloof in composing her note, completely engrossed in making it the epitome of manners. She wanted him to know that she was sincere in her sorrow. Once Harry passed by, calling a "Hello"; she smiled in return, but was no longer as upset that he didn't care for her. There were others in this life, and other feelings to reveal.  
  
She finished the note and tightly re-rolled the scroll, sealing it with a curling scrap of ribbon. Then Ginny went upstairs, readied herself for bed, and placed it on the nightstand. She made a long entry in her diary, then glanced at the note once more. Satisfied, she turned out the light and slept.  
  
  
  
Dear Draco,  
  
I feel horrid about everything that fate has doled out upon you through me. You have my deepest regrets and apologies for slapping you in the first place, and inadvertently subjecting you to the wrath of your father. May your injuries to face and pride heal quickly. I hope that you will accept my remorseful compunction. I also would like to thank you for directing me to class this afternoon. You saved me from embarrassment and tardiness, and I am entirely in your debt. Until we meet again I remain sincerely yours,  
  
Ginny Weasley  
  
  
  
Author's Note: To modern people, especially my dear friend, the author currently known as Gwyn, I know that when you read the above letter you might find yourself musing, "Who would actually write like that?" Well, just for the record, I would, and do, and if you have a problem with eloquence, the problem is singly yours. ( : 


End file.
